


Dear Scraggly Haired Boy

by YouMayKnowMeAsAngel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2892416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouMayKnowMeAsAngel/pseuds/YouMayKnowMeAsAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hedwig writes a letter to her owner after her passing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Scraggly Haired Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is for IzzyThatGleekPotterHead2019's Randomly Generated Prompt Competition at FanFiction.net. My prompt was upset. Please enjoy.

Dear Scraggly Haired Boy,

Before I start, it must be noted that I have never written a letter before. The whole act of writing is quite foreign to me. However, I have handled letters for ages, so I'm feeling pretty confident about my abilities of actually creating one.

This is your owl by the way. Hedwig.

While I can, I'd like to inform you that Hedwig is a very strange name to give someone, especially an owl. You were eleven when we first met. What eleven year old boy gets a beautiful white owl, looks at it for a moment, and then thinks, "Wow! This is a strangely gorgeous creature! Whatever shall I name her? I know! This random name I found in A History of Magic should be perfect!"

Most eleven year olds who are faced with a snowy owl would name their pet something along the lines of Snowball, or Ice. But no. I get stuck with a boy who thinks that Hedwig is the best name for a majestic creature such as myself.

Sadly, my luck didn't improve from there.

Being your pet wasn't exactly easy. During the summer I was locked up in a cage, forced to remain indoors while my wings were aching to take flight. During the school year it was mission after mission. Most owls faced the tasks of fetching the newspaper and the occasional package from home. I had to carry broomsticks and secret messages. Remember the time I was attacked by associates of that horrible toad woman? I was twitchy for a month.

I don't want to sound as though I'm ungrateful. This letter wasn't written so that I could complain, although I do believe I reserve the right. I went through a lot of bad experiences.

But so did you.

As your owl, it was my duty to remain perched at your side through the good and the bad. And there was quite a lot of bad. You've suffered many losses, me being one of them.

And you've been so very brave.

I've enjoyed being your pet. While you can be impatient with me at times, you have always shown me great kindness. You have a big heart. Those summers spent at Privet Drive might have been boring, but you were right there along with me. Remember when those red headed boys rescued us with their flying car? At the risk of sounding too poetic, I must say how vividly I remember the freedom we both experienced that night. I flew alongside you, soaring high with your hopes.

I'm a very intelligent owl. I was able to find you when you stormed out of Privet Drive that one time. I once flew to France to make sure that your bushy haired friend sent you a gift for your thirteenth birthday. I have delivered every message you've given me, no matter how vague the location.

I know a good person when I see one.

Now, it is my understanding that you've been quite upset as of late. The Dark Lord has been defeated, but you've lost many people who were close to you. I may not be there to offer you comfort anymore, but that does not give you the excuse to sink down into depression. Your friends need you. Especially those two that are always with you, the tall one with the freckles and the bushy haired girl I mentioned earlier. They're hurting too.

I'm asking you not to give up. Life will be hard. Life is always hard, but that doesn't mean that it's impossible. Grieve over the ones that you've lost, but rejoice over the ones that are still with you. Live out your days with as much happiness as you can muster up.

And please don't feel bad about me. I'm doing pretty well for myself. I won't go into detail, but I have never eaten so much mice. My stomach is a sight to see.

When you get this letter, don't get all mopey and angsty. I never liked it when you were mopey and angsty.

I've lived a good life.

I also had a rather fantastic death. How many other owls can say that they died during a high speed chase on a flying motorbike?

So, my dearest friend, please enjoy your life.

While I'm writing this, I might as well add in a personal matter.

I'd like to know how that little owl is doing, the obnoxious one that the red headed girl calls 'Pigwidgeon'. (For all I complain about the name that you gave me, I am quite glad that she didn't have a say in it.) He was very annoying. He was always bothering me. Not to mention he was a horrible messenger. He could barely lift an acorn, much less a letter.

I hope the little idiot hasn't gotten himself lost in the Himalayas or anything.

While I have so much more to say, I think that it's time I bring this letter to close. You have a life to live, and I have more mice to eat. Before I sign off for good, I'd like you to know that you were the best owner that an owl could ever hope to have. I would never trade you in for anyone else.

Goodbye for now, Scraggly Haired Boy.

Love,

Hedwig


End file.
